What I Learned from My Illness

As a pre-med student, there have been times when I have found it difficult to relate to patients. I have been extremely fortunate in my health throughout my life; I have never broken a bone, needed stitches, or been to the ER. However, last year I had an experience with a disease, and my experience being in the patient role has made me more empathetic to patients when shadowing and volunteering.

I unknowingly battled anemia (low blood iron, causes excessive fatigue, dizziness, rapid heart rate) throughout high school and my first year of college. As a runner, this disease, and the timing at which I became anemic was catastrophic to my running career. I went from being the top runner on my high school team sophomore year, to barely making the varsity team the next year, due to having very little iron in my blood and being exhausted all the time.

Because I knew it is not uncommon for female athletes in high school to have seasons, even years, where they “get slow” or don’t perform as well as they did in pre-adolescent years, I persevered and signed a Letter of Intent to run in college. I was filled with new hope, after four consecutive disappointing seasons. I thought a new coach, team, and the expanded resources collegiate teams offer would certainly return me to my old self. I felt I deserved this. I had fought through many painful practices, dreadful races, and still held onto the hope that when I finally refined my diet, found the balance between overtraining and undertraining, and found new inspiration at the college level, I would be fast again.

I did get fast again, but not before I struggled through my worst season yet. My first season of college, I began in about the middle of my pack. Not a bad place to be as a freshman. Much to my disappointment though, I declined rapidly over the course of the season. Each practice felt harder than the last, and I felt as if I never recovered from previous workouts. A slow jog felt as hard as an all-out sprint. I could not get through the day without a nap. I came in last out of my teammates, then nearly last in the race, and soon I was too sick to race and too weak to keep on simple recovery runs.

Finally, and reluctantly, I went to the health center on campus and asked to have bloodwork done. I’d had my iron levels checked each year in high school, so although I knew my symptoms were consistent with those of anemia, I didn’t think it could be the culprit. I had been encouraged by my coach for months to just go and have the bloodwork, and as much as I wanted to know what was causing my symptoms, I had refused for quite some time. I waited so long because I was afraid all the tests would come back normal, and I would not have an excuse for being slow and tired. I was afraid everyone would think I had never been good enough to run in college in the first place, and they would hate me (imposter’s syndrome). Running went from being one of the things I loved most in life to the thing I most dreaded.

My experience with anemia taught me a lot about being a patient. During shadow experiences, I have heard physicians talk about how frustrating it is that patients do not make appointments when they have a concern, but instead wait until it causes enough of a disturbance to affect their day to day life, a decision that sometimes costs them their life. I have seen doctors lament as they wonder how a patient tolerated discomfort for a long period of time, and denied there was an issue. Now I better understand why patients may avoid a diagnosis. While it may provide a chance for hope, the more imaginable outcome is that it will result in bad news, or as I feared, no explanation at all.

I felt so relieved when I found out there was a reason for my poor performances. I started taking iron supplements twice a day, and my coaches reduced my workouts so that I was barely running while I recovered. When the season ended, I took a full month of no exercise at all, and when I began running again, it felt amazing. I was so excited to feel good again!

Since being diagnosed with anemia, I’ve felt more compassion towards other patients I meet during shadowing or volunteering. After all, I too had given in to my own fears of not being believed or having all the tests come back negative and finding a dead end. Now I am more understanding of patients who hesitate to go to their doctor’s office when they have a problem. It’s clear to me why patients can so easily become emotional during doctor visits: what a physician sees as a minor and treatable diagnosis can still feel catastrophic to the patient.

On a more personal front, my illness changed the way I thought about running and life by extension. During times when I couldn’t race well and thought maybe I would never race well again, I continued to run. As I kept coming to practice, I realized that I was not running for the competition like I originally thought. I ran because I belonged. I wanted to be part of the long bus rides with people I adored, I wanted to support the women who I trained with every day, even if I was not successful myself. I cared more about being part of a great team than I did about being a great athlete. Persevering through those tough days allowed me to realize how powerful having a supportive team is, and how even our hardest trials can be conquered when we are surrounded by great people. I hope to carry this bit of wisdom with me not only in running, but throughout my education and pursuit of becoming a doctor.